Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. . But oh, how weary I am! I know.
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